That was the title of the concert Alpha and I attended last night. Music from the last half of the 14th century, played on replicas of original instruments – old recorders, whistles, a hurdy-gurdy, a gothic harp, jews harp, tweety bird whistle, several interesting ancestors of the violin, including a keyed fiddle, a fiddle, which sort of resembled a violin only flatter, and several things i am forgetting. also a woman singer, who sang low, and a male countertenor who sang falsetto.

Did you know that they already did cover versions in the late 1300’s? At least, that’s what these musicians claimed. Troubadours were on their way out at the end of that century – there was no end to the information they supplied us with between the songs. It was interesting. The music was varied and fun, with a strong middle eastern influence. How they knew how to play the songs I don’t know. I find that amazing, that 600 years later they can figure that out, from a few old manuscripts, paintings and engravings, when I can’t even play the LPs I bought in college.

During the intermission, my cellphone went “chirp bzzt bzzt” and I spent the next half hour listening to a desperate graphic design guy tell me the font on my album cover design wouldn’t work and what should he do. I thought everything had been straightened out. I was so sick of the whole thing I gave him carte-blanche to pick out a new font just to get it finished.

So I missed most of the second half.

Miguel: [Turns off alarm clock. Unwedges arm from beneath Gamma. Pets Moritz the cat, who is on sleeping on Miguel's stomach. Senses large wet spot on mattress down by feet.] “Gah.”
Alpha: “Zzzzz.”
Gamma: “I’m hungry, what’s for breakfast?”
Moritz: [innocently] “Prrrrrrr.”
Miguel: “No.”
Alpha: “What?”
Miguel: [Sniffs to make sure] “Eh, the cat peed the bed.”
Alpha: “Gah.”
Gamma: “When’s breakfast? I want Wheetabix.”
Moritz: [Still innocently, although with a new ironic undertone] “Prrrr, heh.”
Alpha: “Rub his nose in it.”
Miguel: “K.” [Rubs cat's nose in it.]
Alpha: “Geeze, but don’t kill him!”
Miguel: “What, okay, so I rub his nose in it just a little, or what?”
Moritz: [Unhappily, with pathetic, vulnerable undertone] “Fff! Fff!”
Alpha: “I’d better apologize to Beta for not believing her when she said the cat peed in her bed day before yesterday.” [goes to apologize]
Moritz: [Out side of mouth] “You are so going to regret this, human.”
Miguel: “Don’t get too cocky.”
Moritz: “Oh, you gonna take me to the vet again? Have me fixed? Have me castrated? Again?”
Miguel: “Eh, it was her idea.”
Moritz: “Remember, I’m in the house alone all day long, man. You have no idea.”
Miguel: “Have I told you about the free Rottweilers?”
Moritz: “??!?”
Miguel: “Well, they’re not exactly Rottweilers, strictly speaking – those wouldn’t be free, would they? I guess some kind of wolfhound jumped the fence, you know, so there’s this mongrel litter they’re giving away down the street…”
Moritz: [Under breath] “Rottweiler? Wolfhound? You’re lying.”
Alpha: [Returning from apologizing to Beta] “Gah, this whole place stinks.”
Moritz: [Pathetically] “Weh, weh.”
Alpha: “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

Caring for your lava lamp:
Lava lamps are easy to knock over. So be careful not to knock over your lava lamp. Also, when carrying the lava lamp, be sure to hold all parts securely: the base, the lamp-module, and the fancy little chrome cap that sits on top. The outside of the lamp may be wiped now and then with a clean cloth to remove fingerprints and other smudges, especially if it has been used as a murder weapon.

This reminds me. I broke a reading lamp a couple days ago while making the bed, yet I still must make beds. And now I have to read by lava lamplight.

I have a cold, I’ve stopped eating and quit smoking (again) and am a big pain in the ass to be around.

On the other hand, I’m getting sleep and have lost 5 pounds so far.

I am in the house.

[Thanks to Miss B for the scan.]

He’s back.

While her little sister Gamma does outrageous things and gets blogged about, Beta quietly goes about her business of getting straight A’s in school, rowing on a gold medal-winning team, and other things. She has been in the local paper often. But I must mention her here, too, so you don’t think I neglect her in favor of Gamma.

Beta was born twelve-and-a-half years ago in Tokyo, ten weeks premature. She weighed 1272 grams, a little over two and a half pounds. She was 38 centimeters long. The doctor told me there was a good chance she would grow up normal, although there was of course an increased danger of learning disabilities, hyperactivity, and other problems. As he told me this, a little girl with no fingers and a blank look on her face rolled past in a walker. Her parents had abandoned her and she lived at the hospital.

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